Muggle Tricks
by RionaJoie
Summary: It's only the start of the war that will change the wizarding world forever, however George is distracted by the most dangerous thing possible at this point in time...a muggle.
1. Chapter 1

'Just the paper thanks,' A stout man handed change over to a young girl who was staring absent-mindedly into something beyond his vision. Not that that was saying much, he thought pushing up his glasses. He didn't think she would respond but she smiled, still looking a little vague and took the change.

'Have a good day sir,' she smiled and watched him leave the small shop. She couldn't help but get distracted sometimes, in Ottery St. Catchpole you had to make your own entertainment.

'You can leave now you know Heather?' Simon, her manager walked to the register where she was situated. Simon had a little office at the back of the shop; he spent most of his time there so she never noticed him.

'Yeah sure Simon,' she grinned, she always lost track of the time. She untied the apron which was tied loosely around her petite waist and lifted it over her head, sending her wave of ruddy, brown hair toppling down her back. She grabbed her bag from under the counter and started to stroll home. Walking got a little boring to her; she preferred to stroll, arms swinging wildly like a small child.

She continued down the footpath, past the irregular shops and the trees that always flowered. She could never work that out, why the plants were always flourishing in one way or another but decided to not question it, why dispute such a simple pleasure?

Her home sat atop a small hill just above the tiny town. She was the third and second youngest child in her family. All the children were female.

The door wasn't locked when she got home; she just pushed it open and let herself into a small entrance way which was the only room in the house that was constantly kept clean. It was only a small square or so and had a table on the right side, always adorned with a fresh bunch of flowers and a generous mirror above it. Heather had never liked the room, feeling it was cold and sparse and quickly took a door to the right.

The kitchen was the heart of the home, Heather's mother, Jenny, did everything in there, whether it was cooking, writing for the local newspaper or sitting down with friends to a game of scrabble and a pot of tea. Only when it was in the wee hours of the night was it vacated, however Heather still had innocent memories of visiting the kitchen at midnight for a biscuit and a glass of milk, only to meet another member of her family there.

Heather sat down on a chair at a table; it was the middle chair on the left side. A spot that had never been named hers but which she sat at religiously, just as everybody sat in their respective seats like an unspoken law.

'Good day at work?' Her mother asked, not bothering to look up from the pot of whatever she was cooking.

'Mhmm' Heather smiled and kicked her shoes off. She observed her mother for a moment, she had the same skinny waist but generous hips that Heather did but it was just about the only thing that had in common. Jenny had short, blunt black hair which now had flecks of grey. She was tall and her shrewd blue eyes never missed a thing.

'Shoes in the attic,' her mother looked up now. Heather sighed and rolled her eyes; she picked up her shoes and went back into the cold room. This time she took the door to the front of the room which led her into a hallway. The hallway was always dark because the house had come with an elaborate chandelier in the middle of it. When her father had built the extra two stories, the chandelier had stopped working; nobody had bothered to fix it.

She took the stairs which were to her right and ascended them with a quick and sure step. The next landing had three bedrooms and a bathroom but Heather didn't pause here, she instead went up the next set of somewhat shabby stairs to the place her family fondly called the attic.

She shared her room with her little sister, Melody, who was two years younger than her. Heather skipped across the room to a large, dark wooden wardrobe which contained her and Melody's clothes; she swung the door open and placed her shoes carefully in the bottom of where their hanging clothes were kept. Heather, while somewhat quirky, had an odd sense of order.

'Good day at work?' Melody was sitting on her bed, reading a book. She didn't look up, Melody, just like Daphne and Ophelia, Heather's older sisters, looked strikingly like their mother. Jet black hair and electric blue eyes. Daphne and Ophelia kept their hair fairly short like their mother but Melody's hair was long and flowing, Heather envied her.

'Pretty boring,' Heather shrugged and walked across the room to her own bed which would have only been a few feet distance from Melody's. Heather lay on her bed and put her arms behind her head. The roof here was higher than expected, the whole room was actually unexpected if you had the image of an attic in mind. It was spacious and bright. The large windows seemed like a massive doorway which you could walk out of and onto a large oak tree.

Her Melody stayed in silence for awhile, they preferred it that way. Heather heard Melody shut her book and put it down.

'Come on Heather Weather, dinner should be just about ready,' Melody walked over to her and offered her an outstretched hand.

Heather rolled her eyes but took her sister's hand. Walking down to the kitchen she thought, not for the first time, nor for the last, why her parents had thought it particularly funny to name their daughter 'Heather' when their last name was 'Weatherby'.


	2. Chapter 2

Heather drummed her fingers on the counter. The store was totally dead. She considered retrieving some out of date coco-pops from the crowded and poor excuse of a stock room out the back. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden noise.

'Do you mind Heather? It is July, stock-take you know?' Steve had pushed his wheelie chair with the squeaky back outside of his office to glare at her.

'Sorry Steve,' Heather was bashful and withdrew her fingers from the counter. Steve glanced around the desolate store.

'Uhh why don't you do a new window display?' he suggested and retreated back into his office.

Heather rummaged around under the counter until she found last year's stock-take sale signs. She gathered the signs which were so bright they were an offence on the senses, and shuffled to the window at the front of the shop to take down the Easter advertisements.

It was raining outside and she felt gloomy sliding the door back to gain access to the display window. She was so intent on watching the pattern of raindrops on the window that she didn't see whoever she had just slammed the door into.

'Ouch!' Heather snapped out of her dazing, seeing a tall red head rubbing his arm at the doorway, but smiling as well.

'Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't even realise you were there!' her eyes widened when she noticed an exact replica of the customer stroll in after him, chuckling at what happened to his brother.

'It's alright,' the boy smiled. Heather blushed in spite of herself and turned away. Forgetting about the window display she made a bee-line to the refuge that was her counter.

'Damn damn damn!' she cursed under her breath. Only customers she had seen for the whole weekend and she had managed to injure one of them before they'd hardly stepped inside.

She sighed, expecting them to do a quick loop of the quaint store and swiftly leave, not without the awkward 'thank you,' which Heather always added 'for nothing' in her head.

She put her head on her hand and rested her elbow on the hard wood of the counter, staring at them as they did the exact opposite of what she had expected.

They were quite curious, she thought, not just in their appearance but manner as well. The way they studied what truthfully were, quite boring objects (matches for instance) with complete fascination was odd indeed. She watched one of them run a hand through his hair. What seemed stranger than their behaviour however, was how they managed to be completely dry despite it being bucketing cats and dogs outside and their obvious lack of an umbrella.

Heather didn't avert her eyes until they approached the counter. She busied herself with shelf display of confectionery until she heard one of them clear their throats. She turned, mechanical smile in place, and glanced at what they were going to purchase.

Covered with a thin film of dust and plastic, was a plain set of playing cards.

Heather raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She supposed it wasn't that peculiar, just a traditional form of holiday fun. She scanned the barcode on the back.

'That's £1.50 thanks,' she told them pleasantly. Frowning, the boys studied the insides of their wallets before handing over the money. Heather realised they must be foreigners.

'Is that right?' one asked, he had an English accent that matched her own. He was from around here.

'Yeah that's perfect,' she pretended not to notice their money incompetence.

Instead of leaving store, the boy picked up the deck of cards and opened them. His brother leaned against the counter casually.

'Have you got a bin?' the boy with the cards asked. Heather nodded and relieved him of the plastic, turning her back to them as she chucked it in the bin. When she faced him again he was shuffling the cards while his twin watched, grinning.

Heather watched him as well; the cards were whirring between his hands at an incredible pace. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. It was simply impossible.

Then he stopped.

'Name a card,' he asked her.

'What?' she replied, bemused.

'Just name a card,' he shrugged his manner light and playful.

'Five of spades,' she said slowly, narrowing her eyes but smiling as well. The boy halved the deck and set the second half on top of the first.

'Take the first card,' he instructed her. She picked it up. She couldn't quite believe what she saw. She stared at the card in disbelief. It was indeed the five of spades but she could have sworn that it was a three of hearts just a moment ago. She blinked a couple of times. The red of the hearts imprinted on her eyelids. She was absolutely _sure._

'How did you-'

'Magic' the boy interrupted her, he had a cheeky grin on his face, and his brother mirrored the expression. He turned to leave the store.

Heather gaped at the card in her hands, only to have the other twin snatch it as he followed his brother.

He winked at her and she only just managed to close her mouth as they left the store.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a few months before she saw the twins again. She would be lying if she said that they slipped her mind the moment they had left. She remembered spending weeks pondering exactly what she had seen.

Her mother poured her a cup of black coffee.

'Good time last night then I presume?' Her mother asked, coy smile playing on her lips.

'You could say that, Ophelia and Daphne don't waste any time-'

'Any time what, little sis?' Ophelia, the eldest sister just entered the kitchen. Unlike Heather she was chirpy and completely unperturbed by last night's activities.

'Finding the most potent concoctions to corrupt their little sister,' Heather groaned, sipping the bitter coffee.

'You only turn eighteen once,' Ophelia shrugged and smiled. Ophelia was twenty four, she lived in London with her boyfriend but upon her mother's request, she and Daphne had come home for Heather's 18th birthday.

'Who wants to take a stab at what time Daphne will get up?' their mother chuckled from behind the kitchen counter as she prepared a fry up for breakfast.

'I reckon eleven,' Ophelia mused, rubbing her chin in false thoughtfulness. Heather snorted,

'I wasn't expecting her today,' she remarked. Ophelia rolled her eyes.

'Actually you might not, Simon wondered if you would pop into the shop after breakfast,' to her embarrassment Heather actually blushed.

'Yeah sure…' she replied, trying to ignore her burning face. She worked at the local paper shop which was run by father and son, Steve and Simon. As Heather had gotten older, she had noticed she had less shifts managed by Simon, and more by Steve, what was more apparent however, was the Simon was likely to ask her to 'pop in' on days she wasn't scheduled to work…and he was.

Ophelia and her mother exchanged a knowing smile.

Heather wasn't sure if she approved of Simon's intentions or not, she wasn't exactly experienced in that area. She thought of the boys she went to school with, as she kicked pebbles on her stroll to work. She had grown up with all of them; it was strange to think of them romantically.

When she thought about it however she realised that was the pattern of things, you had a high school sweetheart, fell in love with them, married, had babies and those children did the exact same thing.

Was that the life meant for her?

She shook herself out of the train of thought, she had just reached the paper shop and her stomach was still churning.

It was around lunchtime; she had just exited the bathroom from vomiting (feeling much better as a result) and was wiping her mouth as she returned to the counter when she saw them.

Her head spun and she felt disorientated, she realised she couldn't be dreaming, that they were really here. She didn't approach them; she stood still for a moment and then walked casually to her counter, peaking at them under her lashes.

It was the Christmas holidays; they were wrapped up in hand knitted jumpers and scarves. She scratched the back of her neck nervously as one of them looked up at her, he smiled this time, it was genuine, no mischievous grin.

'Hey Heather can you come in here a sec?' Heather realised she had been smiling back for an abnormally long time. Her face faltered.

'What is it Simon?' she called out to him, hoping it could wait.

'Just come in here,' he answered back. She sighed; he was technically her boss she supposed.

'Yes? Simon?' she took the few short steps to the office and dramatically flounced in, her annoyance subsiding as she smiled and sat down. Simon smiled too.

'I was just looking over these stock figures you lodged…'

Heather nodded and agreed when prompted; even though she could have heard their footsteps, she kept her ears strained for the bell on the counter.

'So I think that's all good then?' Simon asked her, setting down various papers and clasping his hands in a very business-like manner.

'Heather?' he called to her softly, laughing.

'Oh what? Yes I think so too,' she nodded hastily. There was a silence and then they both laughed.

When Heather returned to her counter, the twins were gone.

'Simon, I'm bored and hungover, can I go home yet?' she called out to his office. Slightly annoyed at herself that she'd missed them, yet not knowing why.

'Sure, you look terrible, get some sleep,' he answered her. Heather rolled her eyes as she wrote her few hours down on the time sheet.

She then removed her apron and skipped out of the store, pushing the door open enthusiastically.

'Merlin!' Heather turned in horror; she had just slammed the door straight into the face of a twin who was now clutching his nose. His brother doubled over in laughter.

'Oh god, I'm so sorry!' she groaned, remembering their last encounter…with the door.

'It's okay, there isn't any blood,' the other twin shrugged, having gotten over his silent fits of laughter. Heather smiled weakly.

'I'm Fred by the way,' the twin held out his hand, Heather took it while throwing nervous glances at what looked suspiciously like blood that the other twin was wiping from his nose.

'And the one you keep injuring is George,' the other twin offered his hand this time; Heather was pleased to see he was smiling.

'Don't worry about it though,' George winked, unfazed by his bruised nose.

'Care for a stroll?' George and Fred offered their arms; Heather felt what she was sure was an embarrassingly large smile growing on her face.

'I'd love to,' she linked her arms with theirs and they walked away together from the paper store.


	4. Chapter 4

'I'm Heather by the way,' she told the twins as they began to stroll. She'd never in a million years imagined herself in this situation. She tried to think what made it so odd, but couldn't come to a conclusion.

'Did you go to school around here?' Heather led the twins away from the village. She was taking them to a nice place she knew that ran just below her house.

'Uh no, not exactly,' George answered,

'School wasn't really for us, we dropped out during our last year,' Fred told her, grinning. He and George were obviously remembering something entertaining as they both exchanged amused looks.

Heather nodded, she could relate to that.

'What subjects did you take at school? She asked as they were met with a fork in the road. She took them down the right path. The one to the left led to her house.

'I must confess I haven't really wandered this far before,' Fred frowned, changing the subject.

'I know where we are, we're hardly five minutes from the village. Do you not live around here?' she enquired. The path was not unknown; it connected many houses to Ottery St. Catchpoll.

'We live up the other way,' George waved his hand vaguely behind him,

'It's a bit of a walk,' he continued. Heather felt the twins drink in the new surroundings.

'I've never been up that way myself. I didn't think anyone lived there…'

Heather led them off the path and into a little clearing that had picnic tables... George took a seat next to her, while Fred sat opposite them. They were at the lowest part of a valley and all of them looked up to gaze at the surrounding trees. It made them feel extremely small and insignificant. It was eerily silent.

Fred seemed to survey the clearing with added intensity; a grin grew on his face.

'Hey George, perfect size isn't it?' He asked of his brother. Heather looked between them puzzled, George looked around the clearing as well, he seemed to know what his brother was talking about.

'I think it would be better than the orchard…' he said finally at length.

'What are you talking about? Heather exasperated.

'We have an orchard at home, but we agree that this is a better size,' Fred grinned. Heather crossed her arms, but smiled.

'Well maybe I should be the judge of that,' she told them loftily. She had never really flirted before; she supposed this was how it was done though from what she had seen in the movies. George moved closer to her.

'Why would we want to show you our orchard,' George placed his hands on the picnic table diplomatically, he had a flirtatious smile and Heather could tell that he had done this many times before. Flirted that is, not show girls the orchard. Then again, she thought, perhaps he had. Her heart started to beat a little faster.

'I showed you mine, now you show me yours,' she countered, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

She could see Fred grinning opposite her; she felt the blood rush to her cheeks and hoped to god that she wasn't sweating and that she wouldn't say something stupid or laugh like a maniac.

Suddenly George's manner changed, he had been slowly getting closer to her, but now he slid back along the park bench and grew a little stern.

'Mum will be wondering where we are Fred,' he said to his brother. Heather was perplexed, were they not just engaged in conversation? She felt like waving her hand in front of George's face and saying 'Uhh hello? I'm still here…' she refrained.

Fred sighed,

'I guess so, I wish we could show you the orchard Heather but duty calls,' he grinned and dipped his head towards her. Heather opened her mouth to speak, to say that she wanted to see the orchard, that it wasn't fair. She bit her tongue; it was hardly flirtatious, hardly mature of her eighteen years in fact. She smiled grimly.

'Will I see you around?' she asked hopefully. Not daring to ask for another meeting.

Fred and George exchanged nervous glances, she realised that they were having difficultly coming to a decision. She decided to spare them.

'See you then,' she said as cheerily as she could manage and hugged them both in turn. They seemed relieved.

'Cya Heather,' the winked and trotted off in the direction they had come. Heather sat at the picnic table, trying to wrap her head around what happened. The thought suddenly occurred to her that they might not know the way back. They'd hardly been gone a minute. She knew she'd find them along the path.

She made her way back onto the path, it was still very quiet. She frowned, it seemed odd. She walked along the path quickly, thinking she should come across them any minute.

Then, she was back at the village. There was no sign of the fiery heads that were the twins. She bit her nails, perhaps they had gone the wrong way? She shook herself. Stop being so silly she thought, it wouldn't be the first time you lost track of time day dreaming.

She turned back around; now taking the path to the left that would lead her home. She didn't stop at the kitchen to say hello to her siblings or parents, who gave her curious looks as she went straight to her attic bedroom.

She trudged to her wardrobe, feeling suddenly lethargic. She reached to the top of it, and pulled out an old easel, it was clunky and wooden.

'Eurgh,' she struggled to release it, finally she hoisted it off and onto the ground. She wiped sweat from her forehead.

She then went to the end of her bed, where a stack of presents from yesterday were still waiting. She smiled as she found the set of oil paints Melody had gotten her. She placed them by her easel before going back once again to her bed and pulling out a cotton canvas from underneath it.

Heather didn't consider herself talented at much, she loved cooking but would hardly attempt a meal without her mother close by, and she never excelled in school and was glad when it was finished. She had never felt a desire to go to university as Ophelia had done, nor felt comfortable enough to continue a comfortable life in the village as Daphne had done.

She loved oil painting though. She didn't know what sparked such an interest, she loved the porcelain figures of Johannes Vermeer, she had often tried reading classics; she was so in love with the beautiful women, romantic men and whimsical notions. She'd never the patience or ability to quite finish an Austen though. Instead she told her own stories through oil paints, slowly developing her style through the years.

With a piece of charcoal, she gently outlined the clearing from this afternoon, a winter afternoon that wasn't yet touched by snow. Instead of a wooden park bench she drew a wrought iron table and chair, and a lone figure in old fashioned clothing of centuries before hers. She sighed, nearly content with what she would soon paint.

'Dinner Heather!' she heard Ophelia call. Heather set her charcoal down, and ran downstairs to join her family.


	5. Chapter 5

'Wash your hands Heather!' Daphne exclaimed as Heather sat down in her allotted seat. She had seen Daphne eyeing off her blackened hands since she had entered the room. Daphne had to wait until she had sat down though. Heather rolled her eyes but got up all the same and washed the charcoal off her hands at the kitchen sink.

'Good day at the paper shop?' Her father asked her. He was slightly balding now, but what was left of his hair resembled that which Heather had inherited. Heather saw Ophelia grin.

'Yes it was…' she paused, usually she would tell her family everything; she had no qualms about sharing her school issues, work mishaps and whatnot. Something stopped her this time. She had failed to mention the twins on the first occasion. She had felt there was something slightly _unbelievable _about them.

'Quite uneventful,' she finished, she wasn't a good liar though and Ophelia raised her eyebrows.

After finishing dinner at an alarming rate, Heather rushed upstairs. She knew it was too late to start painting; she sat on her bed and observed it. It was going to be different from the others, which were always hues of yellow, orange and red. She loved the warm colours of autumn. This would be cold though, greys, blues and purples.

The painting didn't completely take her mind off the twins though. There was something seriously strange about them. They were obviously from here, but they seemed uneducated, but that wasn't it. Her head hurt, trying to figure it out. What was she missing? They didn't know simple school subjects, they didn't understand money, and they had a freaky ability with card tricks. Heather explored a million possibilities in her head, home schooled? Cult? Socially retarded? None seemed to fit.

Ignoring how strange they were, the conversation with George suddenly came to mind. She blushed, trying to remember exactly how he had hugged her, the way he had moved closer…

'Night Heather,' Melody had entered the room, Heather hadn't even noticed.

'Goodnight Mel,' she smiled at her little sister who climbed into bed and fell promptly asleep. Heather decided she should do the same and gathered some pyjamas, a towel and slippers and went downstairs to the bathroom.

Heather showered quickly, the relief of hot water was extremely satisfying and it took all her willpower to turn the taps off and get changed for bed. When she left the bathroom the house was quiet and dark. She could hear her dad and who she thought was Ophelia in the kitchen, but everybody else seemed to be asleep.

She crept upstairs to her bedroom, using her towel to dry her hair in a most undignified manner as she went. When she reached the attic she dropped her towel on the ground and then shook her head like a dog, sending water droplets flying. There was laughter from outside.

Heather snapped her head up; she saw a grinning face of a twin sitting on the branch of an oak tree. She stifled a scream, and then caught her breath, heart pounding.

'You scared me!' Heather whispered fiercely, walking towards the window in her fluffy slippers. The twin shrugged still grinning.

'What do you think you're doing here?' she continued in the same tone, throwing a glance at Melody, checking she was still asleep.

'I decided I was quite rude this afternoon,' the twin swung his legs casually, perfectly at ease so high up.

'And to extend an invitation to see the orchard?' he asked simply.

Despite his cool manner Heather could see he wanted her to say yes.

'George?' she asked, pretty certain of which twin it was. He beamed and nodded his head. Heather smiled back.

'Meet you downstairs in five,'

Heather saw him smile wider; she turned her back on him and went to her wardrobe, and pulled out some jeans, a warm top and jacket and then replaced her slippers with sneakers.

As quietly as she could she made her way downstairs. She didn't know why sneakers were called what they were; they made a noise with every step. More like squeakers she thought, and then chuckled at her lame joke. When she reached the front room of her house she could see a warm glow from underneath the kitchen door, Ophelia and her father were still up.

She turned the handle of the front door slowly and then opened the door inch by inch, it was agonising and she was aware that any second Ophelia and her dad she could burst through the room and catch her red handed.

They didn't though and soon she was feeling a rush relief as she shut the door quietly behind her and inhaled the icy air.

She raced around the back of the house and saw George leaning casually against the oak.

'How did you know which room was mine? Heather asked as she approached him. George smiled.

'I occasionally like to sit on top of oak trees. I guess I got lucky tonight,' his tone was light and playful. Heather narrowed her eyes but didn't pursue it any further.

'Why isn't Fred with you?' she asked instead, this time she saw George look a bit uncomfortable.

'He didn't really think I should…' George trailed off, his brow furrowed. Heather waited for answer. She didn't get one.

'C'mon let's get out of here,' George smiled and offered his arm. Heather, distracted from the questions, happily linked her arm with his and they walked together towards the village. Much to her delight, he held her arm quite close as they walked through the deserted village. When they reached the fields which had always been a boundary for Heather and most of the children she had grown up with she felt her heart start to pound. She wasn't sure if it was because she venturing where she never had before, or because George had slipped his hand down to hold hers.

They must have been walking through the fields for about ten minutes when they heard a rustling behind them. Naturally Heather seized up, and pricked her ears for any further noise. George also did the same but Heather noticed that he immediately snatched his hand to his back pocket. She frowned; suddenly weary of whatever was in there. Satisfied the noise must have just been an animal they continued on their way.

Finally Heather could see a tall house in the distance. It wasn't like any she had seen before though. From what she could see it was shabby and seemed to be haphazardly built. It was intriguing and she wished to go closer. Instead George steered her another way and soon they were surrounded by charming apple trees.

'This is wonderful!' Heather exclaimed, breaking away from George and twirling herself around. He laughed at her and then sat on the ground. Heather went and sat next to him.

'Why wouldn't Fred want to bring me here?' she asked, it seemed so silly now. It was just a bunch of trees after all. George just shrugged. Heather realised he wasn't going to let up. So instead they talked about her, what her family were like, what she wanted to do in the future, about her school and work life.

Heather enjoyed all the attention; nobody had ever been so interested in her. George was extremely engaging, his playful manner made for easy conversation but whenever Heather asked anything about his life, he would immediately get a dark look on his face and change the subject.

Light was beginning to spill across the orchard, Heather realised that she had probably get home and rather reluctantly pulled herself up from the ground. George looked rueful as he too got up.

'Thank you for showing me the orchard,' Heather said, suddenly feeling bashful and awkward. George rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

Suddenly there was a 'whooshing' sound from near-by and Heather heard the unmistakable sound of steps. She frowned, the noises didn't make sense, before she could contemplate further, George had slammed her into and tree and using one hand covered her eyes. She had a feeling that the other hand was reaching for his pocket.

She waited to hear a noise, anything, she felt like her heart was going to leapt out of her throat and that her breath could be heard miles away. She didn't hear anything however and George took his hand away, giving a sigh of relief.

'What was that?' Heather cried, but not moving from the tree. She noticed that George was very close.

'It's alright now,'

'Yes but what was it?'

'There are dangerous things…animals…around here,' George finished. Heather knew he wasn't telling the truth. She had never heard of anything dangerous inhabiting orchards, yet she knew what she had heard, and what other explanation was there? Maybe it was a large type of bird of prey?

Heather relaxed a little, leaning against the tree and tried to control her erratic breathing. George's muscles seemed relax as well and he smiled, not moving his arms from either side of her head.

Heather's breathing was far from being controlled. The sun was definitely rising now and Heather's favourite orangey, pinky, reds were colouring the scene. Yet she closed her eyes, and felt George's lips against hers.

When they pulled apart the sun was very much risen.


	6. Chapter 6

'Meeting those boys again tonight?' Steve growled. Heather nodded, unconcerned. Steve hadn't liked the idea of Simon and her together, but then took offence when she found somebody else. How else are you meant to deal with double standards?

'They're meeting my family tomorrow night, at my farewell dinner,' she grinned, knowing Steve and Simon would be there. She didn't like the thought of disappointing Simon but she enjoyed spiting Steve just a little bit. It was his turn to nod now.

Heather left the paper shop at about five; as usual the twins were waiting for her.

'Hey guys,' she greeted them. They smiled back and began to walk the familiar path. Heather hadn't visited the orchard since the night George had kissed her. Neither of them had mentioned it and they hadn't kissed since.

'Heather we have some bad news,' Fred announced, Heather stopped and waited.

'We have to return to London early in the morning, we're needed. Back at our shop,' he explained. Heather felt a pang of disappointment but started to walk again.

'Would you like to visit my house tonight then?' she asked them, hopeful for a yes.

George and Fred exchanged looks.

'Sure, why not?' George answered. Heather walked a bit away from them as they followed her home. They were deep in conversation about something. Heather had noticed, even after the past few days that she had known them, that they were becoming increasingly worried about something. They covered it with laughter and jokes mostly but something was going on. She decided it must be something to do with their joke shop in London.

She was moving to London herself in a few days. She had snagged herself a job as a receptionist and was going to move out and work full time. Hopefully sell a few paintings on the side. She hoped the twins would be more cheerful when she surprised them with a visit.

'Okay here we are,' she opened the front door of her house, and immediately ushered them through to the kitchen where her mum was cooking with Melody and her dad was talking on the phone.

The twins nudged each other excitedly, pointing to her father.

'Remember when Ron tried using the telephonic device thing?' George whispered to Fred and they burst out laughing. Heather's mother smiled at them.

'You must be Fred and George,' she strode out of the kitchen and shook their hands.

'Fred, George, this is my mum, Jenny, my sister, Melody and my dad Walter,' she pointed to each family member respectively.

'Will you be staying to dinner?' Jenny asked the twins, discretely throwing a nervous glance at their humble meal.

'Oh no, our own mother is cooking up a storm for us at home,' Fred waved his hand while he and George not very conspicuously inspected the kitchen appliances.

'I'll show you my paintings,' Heather yanked them out of the kitchen, shocked that would act so strange and took them up to her bedroom before her family could say anything.

'Is that it?' Fred pointed to the painting on the easel. Heather placed her hands on her hips.

'Yes, I'm still painting that one though,' she answered. The twins looked curiously at the painting. Heather thought she could understand this though.

'Oil painting is a very slow process; it can take up to two weeks for a layer to dry.' She explained and saw George suddenly snatch his hand away from the painting, just as he was about to poke it.

'I'll show you a finished one,' she walked to her bed and pulled out a small cotton canvas, this one had a woman in a red dress walking through corn fields.

'Now that's more like it!' George exclaimed and they admired the picture. Heather beamed, pleased with herself.

'I suppose we'd better be off though,' George frowned, handing the painting back. Heather looked up in alarm. She didn't want them to leave so soon.

'Must you really?' she asked, looking directly into George's eyes. He stared back, unflinching and nodded.

'Here's my number!' she rushed to her desk and quickly scribbled it down on a piece of scrap paper and thrust it into Fred's hand.

'Make sure you call,' she ordered them and then hugged Fred first.

When she hugged George he squeezed her tightly and then whispered in her ear,

'I'll see you later tonight,' Heather felt like jumping for joy but had to feign solemness as she saw the twins out of the house.

Heather tried to act normal for the remainder of night. Melody still threw her odd glances as she climbed into bed, Heather realised sitting up dead straight at the end of her bed probably wasn't normal behaviour for her.

Finally, at about midnight, George appeared. It really seemed like he just appeared because Heather had just yawned and when she opened her eyes he was there. She got a little shock but quickly recovered and shot him a grin before running lightly downstairs.

She wasn't as careful as she was the first time, and managed to slip and thud down the last few stairs. She didn't care however and bolted out of the house before any family member could find her.

George caught her by the arm, and quickly kissed her on the lips. She giggled and they ran from her house. When they reached the fork in the road, Heather went to walk into the village. George steered her away.

'We aren't going to the orchard?' Heather had just assumed…

George shook his head vehemently.

'We'll go to your spot, 'and so they walked towards the clearing. Once there they sat down. George didn't sit next to Heather as she expected. He sat opposite her instead. Heather realised that the twins rarely did anything she expected. He did reach across and take her hand though.

'Heather, I'm going to tell you something that will explain a lot…'


	7. Chapter 7

Heather burst out laughing, it was ridiculous of course. Sure, the twins were strange, but there were better explanations to card tricks than simply being a wizard. When she stopped laughing she noticed that George wasn't wearing his characteristic grin, it would be so like him to make such a joke, so why was he looking at her so imploringly?

'I'm telling the truth Heather,' he said quietly. Heather started to get angry now.

'I'm not stupid George, don't you dare even try to make me swallow that rubbish,' she said this all very clearly, in a level voice. She didn't like confrontation and liked to get her point across.

George sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was still a radiant red despite it being dark. He cast a nervous look around. Heather narrowed her eyes.

'Are there dragons watching us or something?' she asked him playfully, waiting for his real explanation. He didn't smile.

Instead out of his back pocket he drew out a polished wooden stick. Heather didn't have much a temper, often too lazy to defend anything she felt half-hearted about. She felt that this was incredibly insulting to her intelligence though, and immediately got up and stepped away from George.

'This is a wand Heather,' he said calmly and stood up. Heather flared, taking another step back. She felt angry that the first male she had invested emotional energy in was pulling this stupid stunt. Yet she also felt scared, as he raised his 'wand', and part of her knew that it wasn't because he could beat her with it.

'Go away,' she told him, eyeing him, making sure she kept a safe distance. She resolved that he was obviously not right in the head and the sooner he or she left the better.

He sighed, looking regretful.

'Are you sure?' he asked her.

Heather nodded slowly, waiting for him to turn and leave. He vanished. Heather blinked a few times, but there was no other explanation. She heard a faint 'pop', not footsteps. She clutched at her heart, which was beating at an abnormal rate. She could feel bile rising in her throat and quickly sat down.

She clutched the edge of her seat, trying to steady her shaking hands. The world around her was spinning and she felt sick.

'No Heather, you aren't going to do this,' she growled at herself and took a deep breath. With a considerable amount of strength she pushed the memory out of her head and got up. She still felt a little dizzy and ill but ignored it.

When she woke up in the morning, all memory of Fred and George was gone.

'So did you do it?' Fred drawled from his bed, casually flicking the contents of their suitcase into a closest across the room with his wand. George just nodded and sat down at the end of the bed.

'You have to admit, mum and dad were right, it's not that we're against muggles-'

'It's that it's too dangerous I know. I know why we're in the order Fred,' George rolled his eyes at his brother.

'Alicia has been into you for a while, why can't you just date her?' Fred implored, George knew that Angelina had been on his back about it. He sighed,

'Heather was heaps hotter but…' and then stared into the distance before once more emitting a melancholy sigh.

Fred snorted and swung his legs off the bed.

'Obviously not so hot if you could wipe her memory,' he patted George on the back and then left the room.

George lifted himself off the bed and went to the closest, he pulled out all the clothes he knew were his and leaving Fred's in complete disarray, went to put them in his own room which was considerably neater.

It wasn't until they had moved out that George had begun to feel separate from his twin. Not that they were distant now, definitely not, they still could finish each other's sentences and shared the same love for everything mischievous; but he supposed for the first time in their life they needed their own private aspect. An aspect that they perhaps needed to share with somebody else on a different level of intimacy.

He didn't completely disagree with Fred though, he thought as he rolled up his socks and put them in a drawer. He could hardly understand Heather's world, how could she possibly accept his? Essentially a Slytherin and Gryffindor could be better matched.

He folded up one his mother's knitted jumpers and then sprawled himself on his bed, desperately trying to reassure himself with this thought while Heather's golden smile filled his head.


	8. Chapter 8

A few days later, Heather was waving goodbye to her family, she held tears firmly back as she watched them stroll away down a busy London Street. She turned around to once again survey her new home, it was small and unimpressive. But it was her own.

She turned once again to the window and burst into tears when she couldn't see her family anymore, her hands shook and she grasped the window pane whilst trying to contain her sobs. A stranger from below looked up unexpectedly and she wiped away her tears, embarrassed, and by the time that they had walked away she was gasping in short breathes, in way she hadn't since she was child and she didn't want her mother to leave on the first day of school.

Slowly she unpacked her belongings; her sitter contained a small kitchenette, a single bed, bookcase and desk all in one room. The only other room somehow managed to have a toilet, sink and shower in it. She tried to rearrange her stuff in a way that would seem homely but couldn't help but think that her once loved possessions now crowded her.

Giving up, she sat down on her bed, somewhat unsure of how to feel. Her family had barely been gone an hour but she felt a pang to realise that they were on their way home and she was not. She felt the tears again and decided to leave, the frustration of being alone too much.

'Morning' the man in the paper shop that was on the corner of her street smiled as she entered. Heather smiled too, nothing could beat the familiarity of a paper shop. She picked up todays papers, tea, milk and a chocolate bar and returned to her apartment feeling somewhat heartened.

Sipping her tea and reading the paper kept her occupied until she laid out her clothes for work the next day and she then showered and hopped into bed. She had her chocolate bar in hand and ate it before sleeping, knowing it would be the only cure for feeling homesick for her own bedroom and Melody that should be sleeping beside her.

Luckily Heather didn't need to walk far to get to the train station. She thought this very lucky as she slipped on her shoe whilst running out of her apartment. She didn't take any notice of her surroundings, too distracted by the thought that she might be late to her first day of work. She had had strange dreams last night, all her paintings had come alive and were yelling at her, she had desperately tried to shut them out by covering her ears and repeating 'impossible' to herself until she woke in a cold sweat. She'd decided that eating chocolate before sleeping perhaps wasn't the best idea.

In a glorious leap, she just managed to board her train, 'Yes!' she cried out triumphantly, if not breathlessly, the short run had exhausted her. She decided that chocolate before bed definitely wasn't a good idea. Sitting down, she smoothed out her clothes and hair, hoping that she didn't look hot and flustered.

Everybody else on the train was busy reading the newspaper or a book, but Heather was aware of a man opposite her in a trim tweed suit. He had flaming red hair and looked somewhat out of place. Blushing she tried not stare, though it was hard not to because he kept staring at her. She shifted her position, uncomfortable from the attention. He must have realised he was being rude and looked down and started to twiddle his thumbs. Heather noticed he looked quite earnestly up at her as she got off at her stop. She was smiling when she got to work. She was smiling when she left as well. She tried not to smile so much when she got on the train again the next day and he was there again.

'Human's really are creatures of habit,' Fred remarked. He was flustered, trying to answer several customers at once, also painfully aware that the cash register was absent of a person to serve the ever-increasing line in front of it. George had just walked in and smiled sheepishly before shrugging and moving to the cash register.

Fred rolled his eyes. It had been the fourth time this week since he had caught the muggle train system. After he'd spotted Heather rushing past the leaky cauldron, he'd said he would just make sure she was okay. Fred ground his teeth, he loved his brother but he had become increasingly careless when it came to Heather. He was well aware of this after their father had arrived at their apartment that night in a fierce rage about how hexing a train driver was _not _reasonable, no matter how pretty the muggle was that was about to miss the train.

'Excuse me, but can you change their fur to another colour?' A small boy was holding up a pygmy puff at Fred, his round eyes pleading, wanting the cute fluffy animal, but not the teasing with the bright pink fur.

Fred smiled and flicked his wand so pygmy puff turned a bright blue.

'Wicked!' the kid exclaimed and ran off to find his parents.


	9. Chapter 9

'Morning' Heather nodded to the man in the paper shop, he smiled back at her. She wasn't rushing to get the paper this morning, it was Saturday, her first weekend away from home and yet she felt like it had been at least a month since she had managed a spare moment to herself. Her job was busy, which she liked because it was simple enough. She decided that today she would explore her surroundings and hopefully find some new inspiration for painting, something different from the country scenes that she so often represented.

The whole feel of the street was changed; people were wandering cheerfully, those who were actually up. She saw a young couple at a near-by café enjoying breakfast after what must have been a big night guessing from the lady's smudged make-up.

She was about to walk in the café and eat breakfast herself whilst enjoying the paper; when something caught her eye. An old man, dressed in the strangest attire, she saw leaving an establishment which she had never noticed before. By the time she had turned from the café that she had been originally going to give her business to, the man who looked like he had been suspiciously been wearing _robes_, was nowhere to be seen.

She spun her head around, surely somebody like that should stand out, but he was gone. She blinked and looked towards what seemed like a pub in front of her. At least she _thought_ it was pub, the more she stared, the stranger it seemed. It was quite small so she wasn't surprised that she had never seen before, even though she had investigated the second book store next to it previously.

She wandered slowly forward, as if in a dream. Before entering she caught sight of a sign swinging off chains, _The Leaky Cauldron._ She smiled, thinking perhaps it was medieval style pub.

It was so dark inside that she didn't notice the strangeness of the bartender at first, but when she caught sight of his hunched back, haggard appearance and bald head she nearly dropped her paper.

'Ma'am' he greeted her, revealing a set of rotting teeth…what was left of them. Heather quickly closed her jaw and smiled back.

'Could I have a cup of coffee please?' she asked him and handed over some money. The man looked at the coins in his hand, and then looked back at her. He caught sight of the paper in her hand and this time his jaw dropped. Heather couldn't help it, the strangeness was all too much, and she laughed.

Suddenly he seemed to gain composure, and put her money in what must have been an antique cash register.

'I'll bring it out to you ma'am,' he informed her, whilst shaking his head as she walked away into a secluded corner.

Heather seated herself so she could get a good view of the odd pub. Pulling out her sketch pad and charcoal, she began putting what she saw to paper.

When her coffee was brought over the bartender gave another toothy grin and nodded approvingly at her work. She continued on until about lunch when she decided that she should probably go home and get something to eat. Just as she was getting up to leave, a wizened old lady, dressed in what looked like black robes made her way slowly through the pub. She smiled at the bartender but did not approach him as Heather had suspected, instead she walked through to the side of building where Heather could see some rubbish bins up against a wall. Wondering what on earth this old woman was doing she watched her closely, half expecting her to ruffle through the garbage, perhaps she was just a familiar mad old lady that always came in.

The old woman pulled out a stick from her- Heather didn't like to think it - robes and began to tap the bricks. She managed to keep her mouth closed this time but she frowned in confusion. She was obviously right about the mad part.

Suddenly however the woman stepped back and Heather couldn't believe her eyes. The bricks were _moving_. All by themselves, they almost sprung apart from each other and revealed an archway into what looked like another street. Heather blinked, the woman walked through the archway and then the bricks quickly closed up again before Heather could get a good glimpse of the street inside.

Feeling slightly faint, she gave a weak smile to the friendly, if not ugly, bartender and then hurried home.


	10. Chapter 10

She had been going to wait until Saturday morning. Heather bit her lip; it had been almost a week since she had seen the old woman enter the impossible archway. It was Friday night and she had been planning to investigate again the next morning, she sped up, her work skirt flapping around her knees, the red head that she saw every morning on the train was making a bee-line for the pub.

She kept as far a distance as she could without losing him, he entered the pub, and he seemed to be rushing himself. She grinned quickly at the bartender; he raised his eyebrows, noting her feverish excitement. Heather felt triumphant when the red head pulled out a stick and starting tapping bricks, she didn't bother to conceal herself, she walked up behind the red head, except as soon as the bricks sprung apart, he was gone, almost at a run down the street. She frowned, but shrugged it off, he didn't matter, she thought, stepping through onto the street, she was here now. And with that, the bricks shut behind her.

She walked slowly at first; the buildings were not unlike London's, tall and old fashioned, but there was a completely different element to them that she couldn't quite grasp. It was like she had stepped back in time.

The streets were quite deserted, she saw a couple of people scuttle around but they were heavily cloaked, altogether the place seemed rather sad. She kept walking though, not that she had much choice. She approached a large white marble building, 'Gringotts' a large sign said. She contemplated it for a moment, the way the marble glowed eerily.

She then turned left, towards a little lane; a wooden signpost told her it was Knockturn Alley. If possible, this street was darker, probably because the buildings were closely packed together. She saw a green light emitting from a side street a little while away, it was the only light to be seen. Quickening her step she made towards it, eager to find the only life she had seen so far. As she approached the side street she could hear a stringy, high pitched noise, coupled with a solid beat which she could feel vibrating through the cobbled stone. She approached a large burly man, he was almost completely covered in hair she thought, approaching him he nodded to her and opened the door to let her in, Heather tried not to stare at the man, through all his hair, she was sure he only had one eye.

Heather hadn't been to a nightclub before, only pubs, however despite never setting foot in one, she could tell this was like no other. The whole place had an eerie green tinge, emitting from the hundreds of candles scattered around the place. There were scantily dressed young women, revolving their bodies around poles which were attached to neither ground nor roof. The bar wasn't busy, every time somebody approached it there was a quick fumbling of money and somebody would flourish what Heather had to admit now, was a wand, and the drink would assemble itself and float towards the owner, who had now joined the strangest crowd Heather had ever seen. The women dressed in sexy, yet Victorian style pieces, jewels drenched their skin and flashed in the green light as they swayed to the strange music. The men were all in long cloaks, or some of the younger ones in slick, tight suits. Heather felt extremely out of place in her work clothes. She dare not approach the bar, having no idea what in god's name 'firewhiskey' could be and not taking a fancy to find out.

Instead she walked over to a seating area and sat herself down on one of the cushy, green armchairs. A drink floated in front of her, and stayed there, she frowned at it confused.

'You can drink it,' a young man with long black hair told her, Heather winced at the man. Did he have _fangs?_ She shrugged, dismissing her imagination and took the drink, sipping it cautiously, the man took a seat next to her. He watched her closely, a grin spreading on his face. Heather felt it burn as it ran down her throat, she widened her eyes in horror, looking at the man and then back at the drink. He chuckled softly and before Heather could even put her drink down everything was black.

'Well, we can't keep an unconscious muggle here,' Fred scratched his head.

'Mmmm' George agreed, swirling his tongue around his mouth. Both twins were completely stumped. This was awkward as Remus Lupin was standing in their living room with them.

'She can't go back to where she lives, that vampire had almost bit her, he's definitely got her scent, who knows what other dark wizards saw her, she stood out like nothing else. She isn't safe.' Remus shook his head.

'Can we take her back to her family?' Fred suggested, poking her casually with his wand. George shook his head,

'That will put them all in danger, as well as our family as they live so close…and the Lovegoods,' he added as an off thought, the repercussions of this one girl becoming evident.

'She stays then,' Remus told them, very grim. Fred and George nodded. Heather was to be the first muggle to live in Diagon Alley.


	11. Chapter 11

Heather would go to sleep at night wishing for a fairy tale. It wasn't too much to ask for she thought, after she had stumbled upon a magical word, why couldn't it be enchanting and romantic and all those other wonderful things?

They lived every day in fear. Every customer was a potential enemy, trust no-one. For all Heather knew, she was on the wrong side. She didn't care either way, she resolved, tossing to her side on the uncomfortable couch. She never slept well, the twins didn't either. The nights were often interrupted by shouting and strange noises, they had gotten worse as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.

Heather woke up with her familiar stiff neck in the morning; she could hear the twins in the kitchen, discussing something or other. Often she caught snatches of conversation mentioning a 'Dumbledore', 'Order' or 'Harry'. They never spoke about these things openly in front of her though.

She hauled herself off the couch, and stumbled into the kitchen, bleary eyed with lack of sleep.

'Morn' she muttered and began to make herself breakfast, one of the most tedious and frustrating tasks of the day. The appliances were very used to magic and often refused to be used manually.

'We've got a meeting to go to soon Heather, will you be alright here alone?' Fred asking her, using his wand to work the toaster for her.

Heather shot him a grateful glance and then sighed. Life was at standstill as it was for her, having the twins gone for their meetings always made time go even slower.

'Yeah I'll be fine, should I do some work around the shop?' she asked, the weather was getting warmer, surely it would be the summer holidays soon.

'Uhh if you like, I always feel bad about asking you to do stuff, it takes you ten times as long' George answered, looking at her…was it sympathetically? Or was that affection?

She frowned, warm colours seemed to fog her mind, she felt she was far away and she could hear leaves rustling in her ears. She could smell apples and she felt tears prick her eyes but she couldn't remember why.

'You okay Heather?' George put his hand on her arm softly, Heather wiped her tears away hastily,

'Yeah, I'm fine, don't know what came over me,' she laughed shakily.

'Could you get me something while you're out? Just to keep me occupied…' an idea struck her, like a flash of colour in an endless night.

'Could you grab my easel and paints? It would cheer me up so much being able to paint again, I swear it's been months…' she trailed off.

George smiled,

'Of course,' his hand was still on her arm, she smiled back and then the twins left.

The meetings always took a very long time but Heather still felt she had to rush.

She pulled on her jeans, sneakers and singlet, she had grabbed her wizarding money, her muggle money savings which she had transferred at Gringotts a few weeks earlier. She was about to head out the door when she raced upstairs and grabbed one of the twins cloaks, the smallest she could find and put it on. Nobody would know her to be any different.

Heather had learnt just a little about this war. The twins were hesitant to let her know too much. She did know that it was apparently muggles and what they called 'muggle borns' that were in danger. The fate of her kind was on the edge of the sword and she was the only one that knew it. It didn't take much to convince her to fight, a lifetime of slavery to some wanker called Voldemort? She didn't think so.

It was this that drove Heather running down Diagon Alley, all the way to the apothecary. She loved the small outings that she rarely had with the twins, and once or twice they had sent her to this very place to put in orders or collect ingredients. There was a particular object that had caught her eye, and hadn't been off her mind since.

'I'd like your best dagger,' she confidently asked bored man drumming his fingers along the counter.

'They need to take better care of their equipment' the man grumbled, referring to Fred and George, whose treatment of cauldrons, ladles, scales and knives was a source of great disdain to him.

However he still reached under the counter and brought up onto the counter, blowing dust off the top.

'You won't find much better than this, I'd actually like to see them blunt this' he lifted the lid off the box, the dagger was beautiful, she could see edges glinting, the handle was plain but strong.

Heather picked it up, it was heavier than she expected, the blade was quite thick in the middle, it wouldn't break.

'I'll take it,' she told the man, not taking her eyes off the blade as placed back down in the box and handed over all her money.

Heather returned to the apartment very pleased with herself, nobody would suspect a witch to need a weapon. She discarded the box quickly when she was sitting safely on the couch that was her bed and instead sheathed the dagger in its leather casing, which easily attached itself to her belt. She wouldn't be completely unarmed anymore. It was true, she was bringing a knife to a gun fight…well something much more dangerous but it was better than nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

Heather didn't stir from the couch until she heard the faint 'pop' downstairs and she rushed to meet the twins, pleased to see an easel tucked under Fred's arm and a battered set of paints freshly plucked from her apartment which she hadn't set eyes since first moving to London. So much had changed since then.

'Thank you thank you thank you!' she gushed, retrieving her much missed possessions and ran again upstairs. The twins exchanged perplexed glances, however they were glad to be relieved of their usual questioning and followed Heather, though a little more slowly, upstairs.

Heather propped her easel up near the window and pulled the coffee table closer to her so she could place her paints on it. She then retrieved one of the heavy chairs from the kitchen and dragged it over to easel, where she sat. She just sat there, and thought.

'What's she doing?' Fred asked, as he magically reheated a lasagne which Mrs Weasley had given them. George shrugged, leaning against the kitchen wall and staring at her.

'I think…she's trying to remember,' he murmured so quietly that his brother only just heard it.

George looked on as Heather finally picked up her charcoal. He didn't blink once as she tilted her head to the side, contemplating her canvas. He stared at her so intently that Fred almost imagined George was willing her to remember.

She drew a familiar scene, a clearing with a bench, her charcoal was quick as she sketched her favourite spot and when she was done with that scene she sighed in frustration and put the charcoal down, perhaps a little too forcefully.

'Come have some dinner Heather!' Fred called out to her cheerily. George was snapped out of his stupor; Fred raised his eyebrows at him as he sat down at the table. They ate in silence.

Later that night Heather huffed in frustration and threw her covers off. In nothing more than a singlet top and underwear she returned to her easel. She couldn't stop thinking about it, what was missing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

When she picked up her charcoal she drew two figures, a man and woman. They were rough but the man was holding the woman, crushing her head to his chest with one of his arms outstretched, pointing a wand.

There was something about this image, this feeling of protection that had haunted her and she felt more at ease now it was out of her head and somewhat tangible. She turned to go to bed, but tripped on feet that were behind hers.

'George! What are you doing here?' Heather whispered, her heart pounding from almost falling and the shock of finding him there.

'Do you remember Heather?' he whispered to her fiercely, turning her back to the canvas. Tears pricked Heather's eyes, her head throbbed, and she knew something was there but she could only see darkness. She heard George sigh.

George lifted his arm, not unlike the figure in the painting and muttered something under his breath. A shot of colour burst from his wand and hit the painting. Heather gasped, but it seemed to absorb, there was no damage.

She watched as the figure slowly lowered his arm in the painting and replaced a wand in his back pocket. He then lifted the woman's head and met her lips with his. The figures were stationary again.

Heather closed her eyes. There was a noise and the smell of apple trees, the rustle of leaves in her ear, there were warm colours but then everything went dark, she was crushed into somebody.

'George!' she gasped, her head swimming. George let a breath of relief out and pulled Heather to him, hugging her closely.

'We've met before?' she asked, George just nodded

'I had to erase your memory…you wouldn't believe me…' he whispered, his face awfully close to hers.

'It's terrible George, there are bits missing…emptiness inside of me.' Heather sobbed, straining her mind.

George didn't apologise, he didn't think he needed to because he couldn't comprehend anyone being sorrier than him. They had nearly lost what they were fighting for, a time of freedom, happiness, equality and love.

George kissed Heather for the first and second time. It wasn't as carefree or as enjoyable, they both knew the stakes this time.

The next morning things were considerably awkward. Fred blamed it on the fact that Heather had looked him up and down appreciatively when he emerged from the shower in nothing but a towel, Heather maintained that they were twins, with identical bodies. George was just relieved she didn't throw herself at him.

All of them felt that they had entered some strange new relationship, which George and Heather were exhilarated by and Fred was somehow dragged into.

There wasn't much time for any three of them to contemplate what exactly was going on as meetings for the Order became more frequent. Nobody knew why, Heather least of all, but she still had the feeling they were rushing towards a climax. The tension kept on building.

George and Heather were fumbling in a broom closet downstairs, they giggled, knowing Fred was probably wondering where they were,

'We shouldn't be doing this now George,' Heather tried not laugh as George kissed her lightly down the neck,

'Now you're wrong there Heather,' George replied, Heather shivered, his mouth breathing closely to her ear,

'We shouldn't be doing this at all,' they both laughed,

Later that evening Fred found them; except when he opened the door he didn't look exasperated and amused as usual. He was white-faced and wide-eyed.

'What's wrong?' George was instantly concerned.

'Patronus from the Order, death eaters are inside of Hogwarts,'

Nothing more was said, George and Fred sprinted to grab their cloaks and they were gone.


	13. Chapter 13

"Tick, tick, tick" Heather could only listen to the sound of the clock. She chewed her nails, unaware she had made her right index finger bleed. It was true; a part of her was worried for the twins, not to mention the fate of the entire wizarding world, which she was currently stuck in.

'Humph' frustrated she flounced off her couch and bed, flung open an old closest which the twins had found for her and pulled out a pair of joggers. She slammed the door shut, which was slightly unhinged now and in a fairly unbalanced dance Heather pulled the shoes on.

She'd never been one for exercise and she felt fairly stupid standing in front of the fireplace with squeaky clean and astonishingly white joggers on. She had her dagger in the back pocket of her jeans and its weight was a comfort to her. Summoning all her strength she dipped her hand into a pot on the fireplace mantle and took a pinch of bright green ash. She threw it into the fireplace and watched without change of expression as green flames sprung up. Heartened by the fact that floo powder had worked for her despite being muggle she went to step into the fireplace.

The tip of white jogger was singed immediately and Heather felt an uncomfortable heat flow over her.

'Damn' she muttered and turned away from the fireplace. She didn't know how else she could get to Hogwarts.

Beaten, she slouched over to her easel and leant against it, watching the street outside. Half an hour must have passed when she saw two figures in black cloaks walking in a very determined manner towards Knockturn Alley. Heather didn't think, she knew she couldn't conceal herself fully but she grabbed a black cloak on her way out, her joggers squeaked as she ran down the stairs of 93 Diagon Alley and followed the two pinpricks of light which told her where the two figures were headed.

Fred and George had been very adamant in warning Heather against going to Knockturn Alley, after her first experience she hadn't fancied a visit anytime again soon. Now she was here again she wondered how she hadn't noticed all the signs of dark magic the first time, she was actually glad she was in a rush so her eyes couldn't linger on what seemed to be a skinned baby dragon in a window, shrunken heads and pickled pixies.

She heard one of the figures, what appeared to be a large, bulky female give off a malicious laugh as she entered a shop called 'Borgin and Burkes' as she ran after them she just caught them entering a cupboard through the shop window when she too pushed open the door and darted towards the cupboard. She heard a shout from a man behind counter but was sent whooshing through the air before he could do much more.

As soon as the sensation had started it stopped and Heather felt her feet on solid ground again. In a moment of panic she thought she hadn't gone anywhere at all, she was in the same cupboard and thought the shopkeeper would be there any moment to curse her into oblivion. Nobody yanked the door open though and with some trepidation she pushed the door open a crack. From what she could see it was the messiest, most cluttered room that could have existed. Curiosity overcoming her fear she emerged from the cupboard. Towers upon towers of magic stuff were teetering around her. She could hear croaks and whistles and bangs, smoke issued from some towers and if she weren't driven by the desire to fight alongside the twins, she could have stayed in the room forever.

She tore her eyes away from all the intrigue and ran forwards, she could see a large door half the length of the wall in the distance and it was easy to dodge the mess as she made her way towards it.

It swung open willingly to let her out and she stumbled into a candlelit passageway, she barely had time to contemplate the flagstone floor when she heard an exasperated,

'Another one!' for a moment she thought she had found a twin, but then realised that this male was a lot taller and older. He still bore freckles and flaming red hair which was long and tied back. Heather realised it must be one of the older Weasley brothers.

She opened her mouth to say something but before the words had escaped her mouth the brother had sent a curse flying at her, Heather flung herself to the side, tripped over something and painfully fell to the floor, smashing her elbow against the stone wall. Groaning she saw that she had tripped over one of the death eaters she had followed here. A glance up told her the bulky woman was still conscious. Her wand was raised but her jaw was slack as she viewed Heather with some confusion, unsure if she was an enemy or not. Heather wasn't going to stick around for her decision. With a nimbleness that surprised even her she leapt to her feet and rushed at the woman, pulling her dagger out as she did.

Heather collided the woman, all her force wasn't enough to knock her over but she heard a satisfying cry as she sunk her dagger into her side. As Heather jumped away she could feel warm sticky blood making her robes cling to her body. The woman clutched her side in agony. She roared and made towards Heather. The Weasley brother quickly stunned her though and she toppled over, her hand landing at Heather's feet with a sickening "crack".

'I'm Heather,' she stepped over the large body towards the Weasley brother. He frowned.

'You're a muggle, how did you get here?' he growled, wiping sweat off his forehead, not bothering to introduce himself.

'A cupboard in Borgin and Burkes, I followed those two.' She waved her hand at the bodies on the ground.

'I want to fight,' she continued when he didn't say anything. He gave a short, forced laugh at her comment.

'You can't fight, you have a potions knife, you'll be dead in-' but Heather never found out how long she would last, another figure had emerged from the room which she had arrived. It was no ordinary death eater though. He seemed to be partially covered in hair, he had pointed teeth and his face was a little elongated into what resembled a snout, accented because his lips were curled into an unmistakeable growl.

'RUN!' the brother grabbed Heather's arm and they set off at a sprint.


	14. Chapter 14

Running and panting Heather stumbled through corridors with the elder Weasley. The death eater behind them jeered at their heels, his voice dry, bark-like. Heather was dimly aware that he sprung up staircases on all fours.

They were very high up in the castle when they finally saw evidence of a battle. Spells were bouncing off walls, Heather could see as she approached another two Weasley children but not Fred and George.

'I'll have pretty little red,' growled the man behind them, he had stopped running, drawn himself upright and was eying the only female Weasley sibling who Heather knew must be Ginny. Heather's red haired companion roared, turned and threw himself with such ferocity at the death eater that both of them crumpled to the ground and seemed momentarily stunned. Heather felt a bit stupid just standing there, what was she supposed to do now?

Before she could decide however her legs gave way from under her, and her head hit the ground with a crack, she blinked in confusion and saw that the death eater had grabbed her ankle.

The Weasley brother hoisted himself off the ground and aimed his wand at the snarling man who was poised ready to bite Heather, who quickly scrambled a little to the side, unable to lift her swimming head to stand up.

'Stupefy!' the Weasley yelled at the man, who ducked the spell and launched himself at his attacker, catching him around the middle.

Heather tried lifting herself, could see spots of lights in front of her eyes. She heard a sickening crunch as the doggish man kicked his knee into the Weasley's chest, probably breaking a few ribs.

'No!' yelped Heather, groping for her knife as the death eater sunk his teeth into the Weasley brother, biting at his face, chest, arms, anywhere he could reach and slashing at his face maliciously with his claw-like fingers.

Blood was pooling around her feet by the time Heather was able to attack the man, her head throbbed like crazy where it had hit the ground and she could feel a trickle of warm blood running down her neck. She was nauseated beyond belief but redoubled her grip on her knife when she caught sight of the damage this wolf man was doing to his victim.

Heather didn't waste any time, she aimed a blow straight at his neck. He threw her aside however and leapt so he was leering on top of her, Heather sunk her dagger into the joint between his arm and chest, he gave a howl of pain and his body gave way on that side. Heather crawled onto her knees and went to plant her knife into his heart, the man snapped at her wrist though, his pointed teeth sinking so they met each other in her flesh. Heather dropped her knife with a blood curdling scream. Before she knew it, she felt the same agonising pain in her shoulder, and a white hot agony across her face as that was ripped open by claws. She groaned, but was aware that her attacker had abandoned her body, her sight was blurry and she couldn't focus far but she managed to catch a glimpse of the Weasley brother, bleeding next to her and know that the death eater hadn't resumed his attack on him before darkness surrounded her.

'…I've never known a muggle to survive a werewolf attack. There needs to be magical blood for the transformation,' a man's voice, a very tired man's voice penetrated Heather's consciousness. She was bobbing up and down and realised she was being carried in someone's arms.

'But it isn't the full moon, surely her, and Bill, will just have flesh wounds?' One of the twins was near-by too.

'We'll see what Madam Pomfrey will say…' the man who was carrying Heather sounded grim.

It didn't seem long before Heather was lowered onto a bed, she tried opening her eyes but found they were too heavy, and when she went to straighten her limbs, she felt as though all her bones had shattered into pieces, she screamed, her throat on fire. She didn't understand what was happening, did a spell hit her after she was unconscious?

'These wounds are cursed; she must be feeling the venom through her body. Try not to move dear,' She could hear a woman mutter beside her, and then a string of incantations. Nothing happened.

'Same as with Bill,' she sighed,

'She'll be scarred too then?' A twin's voice was near her ear. Heather didn't hear anymore, she imagined the matron inclining her hear morosely.

'At least they're alive, I'm going to find Harry,' an unfamiliar girl's voice said. There was silence for a while, until Heather heard someone approach and soon felt a potion slide smoothly down her throat. Feeling it calm her body as if it were running through her veins she felt a peaceful sleep wash over her.

The next day, feeling quite a lot better, despite scarring to her face, Heather yet again pulled on some black robes.

'Thank you,' she muttered to the twins, who were in the hospital wing with her, wearing black dragon scale suits. Neither of them smiled or said anything in return. They had bought her the robes so she had something suitable to wear to Dumbledore's funeral that morning.

They walked down to the grounds in silence and at a moderate pace, though she didn't say so, Heather was glad. Now she was seeing Hogwarts without Fenrir Greyback at her heels, it was the most amazing sight. Even living in Diagon Alley, she had never felt the magical world was more real.

Heather didn't speak to Fred and George once on their journey, though her mind was bursting with questions. She had never seen them so mad before, not even when talking about Percy. None of the other Weasley family were angry, in fact they and Fleur had thanked her, saying if it wasn't for her, Bill might not have made it.

Fred and George didn't seem to share this sentiment though and they took their seats without so much as sharing eye contact. After a few minutes, the low murmuring got to Heather though and she opened her mouth, reaching her hand out to George's on his knee, which he quickly moved away.

'I'm really sorry George but you couldn't expect me to just-' Heather choked; George had fixed her with an angry stare.

'To just stay home and be safe? For merlin's sake Heather you can't do magic!' he hissed at her.

'You have no idea what you're up against, all of us are lucky to alive let alone you, a muggle!'

Heather turned her head away, trying to hide the tears running down her face, hastily rubbing them away when the funeral started and never moving her expression from the stone cold one that George also wore.


	15. Chapter 15

A week before the wedding they all packed their gear in silence and merged in the kitchen. Fred was whistling and cheery, Heather noticed he was making a note of ignoring George's pointed stares at him. She was grateful, perhaps the more they ignored how unstable this situation was, the more ridiculous it would seem to her to do anything. Yet she continually ran over scenarios in her head, walking into the paper shop and seeing her family, sneaking away at night and watching them through their windows.

She sighed and linked arms with the twins so they could dissapperate. They were in the fields outside the burrow before she could continue her thoughts on the protective spells that would disallow her from doing any of these things.

The smell of apples and straw hit her first, before she could drink in the sight of the tall slender grass and rich, leafy trees. She thought she had missed home, but now, now she was here and could see all the things she didn't know she missed, it was heartbreaking to know that she couldn't stay.

'Come on, let's get out of the open,' George nodded his head towards the house. The twins led and Heather lagged behind a bit, savouring everything around her. As they walked past the orchard George swung around and flashed Heather a grin, she blushed and giggled. Fred shook his head, plucked an apple from a near-by tree and took a bite out of it, letting the juice run down his chin.

Soon enough they were at the Burrow's front door,

'George, Fred? Is that you?' Molly Weasley shuffled out of the kitchen, a chicken between her feet which she shooed out of her way with her wand.

Fred went to hug his mother, she gave him a hasty embrace but ignored George's outstretched arms,

'No time, no time!' she cried, 'Heather dear, I know you're muggle but I'm sure you won't mind doing things the long way, Harry is in the same predicament, actually could you go upstairs and help him sort bedsheets?'

If Heather objected she didn't have time to voice it, she was pointed to where the stairs were inside and she had no choice but to move towards them.

'Harry?' Molly hadn't actually specified which room Harry was in upstairs. She knocked on each door calling his name until she found him. Fred and George had told Heather Harry's story many times but had failed to describe the way he looked. She was a little taken a back; this was the man…boy, who was chosen to protect people like her?

'Hey…?' He stood at the doorway of Ronald Weasley's room awkwardly.

'I'm Heather, sent by Mrs Weasley to help you sort bedsheets,' she smiled; he raised his eyebrows at her name.

'Yes I'm the muggle, honestly it's you lot that are surprising not me so don't give me that look,' exasperated, Harry burst into laughter,

'Come in, I can tell you've spent too much time hanging around Fred and George, I can assure you the rest of us don't use magic in the same manner they do,'

'I thought you couldn't use magic yet?' Heather picked up a pastel yellow sheet from the large lump of them that sat on the bed.

'Soon, only a few more days now,' Harry sighed,

'Hey don't sound so frustrated, I won't be able to use magic ever,' Heather got Harry to hold two corners of the sheet and they walked towards each other to fold it in half.

'Is it weird? You know, being surrounded by magic all the time and not being able to do it yourself?'

Heather paused for thought,

'Fred and George would be weird without magic,' laughing, finishing off the sheet in a neat manner and setting on a mattress on the floor.

'But as weird as it is being around magic, it's basically just awesome all the time. Sometimes I feel sorry for you magic folk because you get used to it but me, I'm in constant awe of my world and surprised by it all the time, It's still so unbelievable.'

'I know what you mean, I didn't know I was magic until I was eleven and going to Hogwarts was completely…well weird at first, but spectacular. I'm still getting used to all the things I'm able to do,' Harry struggled to fold a fitted sheet neatly, Heather chuckled and helped him.

'What's up?' Ginny Weasley had appeared at the door of Ron's room; she strolled in, eying Heather.

'Oh you know, just folding sheets,' Heather muttered, picking up another one, Harry grabbed the corners but didn't take his eyes off Ginny who sat cross legged on the mattress next to the folded sheets and watched them.

After what seemed like an age the sheet was folded and placed with the others.

'I'm off to the bathroom' before either of them could direct her to the bathroom Heather had escaped the room.

The bathroom, thankfully, was only the next landing down. She actually did need to go quite badly, apparation tended to do that to her, and felt significantly relieved afterwards. Until she bumped into George,

'Merlin George, you came out of nowhere!' Heather clutched at her heart,

'Years of sneaking up these stairs, glad to know I haven't lost my touch,' he pretended to brush dirt off his shoulder,

'Prat, what are you doing here anyway?'

'Uh using the john, pretty self-explanatory I should think,'

'Oh' Heather blushed and moved aside for him to enter bathroom. He mustn't have had to go that bad though because he leant against the wall and appraised her.

'What's mum got you doing again anyway?' he asked her, she was aware that he was looking her up and down. She quickly looked down at her feet, letting her mess of tawny hair cover her face from view.

'Just folding sheets with Harry, Ginny walked in though, and you could cut the sexual tension in the air with a butter knife so I bailed,' she mumbled.

'Speaking of sexual tension…' George leaned forward and brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Heather quickly shook it out again, keeping her eyes fixed on her shoes.

'Don't do that,' George said and went to move it back again, Heather flinched away but looked up at him.

'Why do you do that?' he sighed, frustrated.

'It's my face, these scars,' she ran her hand over the claw marks on the right side of her face. 'They're so ugly and are going to remind forever of how stupid I was,'

'Not ugly and not stupid,' George placed his hand on her face, it was warm and slightly moist with sweat, he stroked her scars gently and slowly. 'Every time I see them, I'm reminded of what you did. Not out of stupidity, but out of love Heather. Don't be ashamed of them. Are you ashamed of loving me?'

Heather caught her breath in her throat. Her heart seemed to double its pace in less than under a second. She and George hadn't spoken of loving each other before.

'Of course not…' she breathed, looking into his eyes, he was very close. She could smell apples.

'Good, because I'm certainly not ashamed of loving you,' He leant forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. He left as suddenly as he appeared though, as he disappeared into the bathroom Heather went to go back upstairs to Harry and Ginny, wondering if she was going to intrude on a similar scene, before she could contemplate this further however she noticed Mrs Weasley frozen on the steps coming up to the landing. Heather's eyes widened, it seems she had learnt the trick of climbing stairs quietly in this house too.

Heather couldn't bring herself to say anything, luckily Mrs Weasley spared her, they locked eyes for a moment, but all she did was purse her lips and turn around, going back down the stairs. Heather didn't know how long she had been there, but judging from her less than impressed look she gathered she had been there long enough.


	16. Chapter 16

If Mrs Weasley disapproved of her son kissing a muggle she certainly didn't let it show. Over the next few days Heather actually wondered if she had seen them or perhaps she was so busy and distracted with the wedding that she had forgotten. Heather shook her head as she kicked a rotten apple across the ground; there was no mistaking that look on the stairs. She shivered thinking of it, and then blushed, remembering what George said…

Heather carefully pulled herself up a tree on the outskirts of the orchard. Hoisting herself up the large, thick branches was easy and gave her a good view of Ottery St Catchpole. Thoughts of George quickly left her mind when she drank in the view. She wished she could see her house from here, or at least the people walking around the village. It would have been a small comfort for her.

'Thought you'd sneak off did you?'

Heather jumped and gripped the tree quickly, palms sweaty.

'You'll make me fall down Fred! Should have known you lot wouldn't let me have a moment of peace.' She scowled down at an approaching Fred who grinned.

'Of course not!' Yelled out George who was following close behind.

Fred took a seat leaning against the tree Heather was perched in.

'If I were you I'd have run off by now, yet sitting in a tree doesn't seem like a very productive way of seeing your family.' Fred observed.

'What chance have I got against magical folk?' Heather winced at the mention of her family and touched the scars on her face gently. George took a seat next to Fred and they spoke quietly for a few moments. Heather didn't care, she pined so much for her family and normal, muggle life back but felt guilty when she did, in a way Fred and George were both the best and worst thing that ever happened to her.

'Let's go before I run off then,' Heather sighed and launched herself from the tree, hitting the ground awkwardly in front of Fred and George. They both raised themselves to help her up.

'You are going to enjoy the wedding tomorrow though aren't you?' George turned to her and asked her as they strolled back to the Burrow, keen to take their time.

'I suppose so, I haven't been to many weddings,' Heather shrugged; she was a bit anti-social for these types of affairs.

'We'll get you so sloshed that you won't have a worry in your mind about your family or being a muggle or anything,' Fred said proudly, as if he was doing her a service. Heather couldn't help it, she cracked a smile.

'There's the Heather we know and love,' He nudged in the ribs and she even laughed a little.

Heather went to bed that night feeling relieved that after tomorrow the whole wedding business would be over and they could go back to Diagon Alley. In a way, the Burrow was even more outrageous and bizarre than the joke shop. She laughed a little as she slipped off to sleep, wondering to herself in what strange universe would one ever have to compare the two.

The morning came too soon, Heather still felt exhausted as she stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen for breakfast. She ate quickly, perhaps too quickly; the porridge was still scolding her throat as she retreated upstairs away from the chaos. Heather slipped into a pretty blue dress, it was simple and a little dated. Her mother had bought it for her a couple of years ago, she remembered the day in London well, how she tried on the dress and her mother had gushed that the dress was perfect for her and insisted on buying it for her. A tear slid down her face, Fred and George had offered to buy her something new but she had refused. She wished she had worn this dress more often for her mother.

The ceremony wasn't easy for Heather either. Fred and George were so busy with family that she had lost them quickly and was sitting in a crowd of strangers. She knew she looked too sulky and plain for this wedding but she didn't care. Soon it was over and the real celebrations began.

She grabbed a glass of champagne as soon as one floated near her, she could hear a member of Fleur's family boasting to a Weasley about the quality of champagne they had supplied. Heather felt the bubbles pop in a most definitely magical way in her mouth when she had a sip.

Soon everybody was dancing and everything was spinning. Fred and George were nowhere to be seen, normally they would stand out in a crowd, but with so many Weasley's it was hard to tell them apart with their striking red hair. Heather giggled and hiccupped at the thought.

'Psst! Heather! Over here!' George was whispering at her from behind the pavilion, Heather frowned but came around to meet him.

'What is it George?' She asked him but he just held a finger to his lips, shook his head and got her to follow him.

Fred was waiting for him on the other side of the orchard.

'We're incredibly stupid for doing this, but seeing as you've been so well-behaved…' Fred chuckled. Heather didn't understand what was going on, the alcohol made her mind blurry.

Fred and George kept walking past the Orchard, down into the fields. She had her arms looped with theirs but they kept walking. They weren't apparating anywhere. Suddenly it hit her; she choked out loud, trying to hold back tears. She would have to be quiet if they were to follow the path to her house.


End file.
